


choking on love (it’s you, you know)

by SeveralRainyDays



Series: Oneshots/drabbles [5]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, Ending is implied but also obvious, Hanahaki AU, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, No characters names are mentioned besides Daesung, One Shot, Pain, Panic Attacks, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, and Seungri obv, hanahaki, i don't hate them, idk what im doing, it's just supposed to be a guessing game, of who Seungri is in love with, then everything is kinda sorta revealed, two aren't actually mentioned at all, until the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeveralRainyDays/pseuds/SeveralRainyDays
Summary: This wasn’t painful, though. Please don’t get him wrong, his body could be burning and it would never compare to the pain of love itself. Choking on flowers because he loved would never compare to the pain of seeing the man he loved with someone else, knowing that he never had a chance to begin with. Yet, he can’t find himself mad at the man, since they seem so happy without him there.He laughs as he chokes. They say death is painless, and years ago he sure had hoped that his death would be painless. Seungri knew better now though. 'This is death,' he muses, 'after all this time, this is how I die.'—Y’all I know ab the scandal and honestly it’s disgusting but like I wrote this entire thing and I’m not going to take it down bc even though the main character is a disgusting person irl I’m actually proud of this work... maybe I’ll change it into an NCT fic soon if I get the time lol





	choking on love (it’s you, you know)

**Author's Note:**

> So fair warning, this isn't edited a whole ton as it is more of a rant fic that I picked up whenever I had time to write. (AKA this jumps around a lot so idk if it's completely coherent) Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written it is literally 10 pages long.

Nobody really expects it, because love hits you like a freight train. Fast, unrelenting, and carelessly throws your body to the side; it doesn’t bother to stop either, just carries on its merry way whether you caught the side rail or got hit so fast you fall, your body crushed beneath it. Love doesn’t care about your well being, and while it can be a beautiful thing if harvested at the right time and gently taken care of, it can also be deadly.

 

People fall victim to the deadliness of love constantly, Seungri being one of them. He hadn’t meant to, really. It just so happened that one evening after his schedule he found himself sitting in his bathroom, coughing. Gripping the porcelain so tight his fingers are white, lungs burning. A fire ablaze in his lungs, he sat there for what felt like hours, waiting. Nobody would ever come though, the feeling of being alone seeped further into his soul.

 

Loneliness? He was always alone. The maknae who owned companies and loved being independent. He’d been alone for years. Owning his own home, only seeing the others for “business” purposes. Bigbang was just there to pay the bills of YG. Sometimes the way people perceive you, causes you act. To put on a persona and be the person they expect of you. To be nothing more, nothing less.

 

Who was he kidding, though? He had felt a tickle in his throat every time he looked at this particular man. For weeks it had happened before a single petal landed in his hand the night before a concert. It started slow, but one petal became two, which became four, which became sixteen. Soon he was coughing up whole flowers.

 

This wasn’t painful, though. Please don’t get him wrong, his body could be burning and it would never compare to the pain of love itself. Choking on flowers because he loved would never compare to the pain of seeing the man he loved with someone else, knowing that he never had a chance to begin with. Yet, he can’t find himself mad at the man, since they seem so happy without him there.

 

He laughs as he chokes. They say death is painless, and years ago he sure had hoped that his death would be painless. Seungri knew better now though. _This is death_ , he muses, _after all this time, this is how I die._

 

Some days are worse than others, the flowers seem to grow thorns and rake up through his esophagus, taking bits and pieces of organ with it; thick and red blood would cover the flowers. Others, one single cough would bring up a single flower petal, sitting still in his hand. It fluctuated, but Seungri knew when it would be the worse.

 

The worst was when he was with the other man, who was cuddled up to his lover. _His hyung’s lover, who wasn’t Seungri, and would never be._ It was hard at first, hiding the coughs and bloodied lips behind a small smile, but soon it became second nature. _“Ah, I think I’m just getting a slight cold, don’t worry about me.”_

 

Suddenly everything is now okay, the worried glances stop, _“Oh if it’s just a cold, I can stop by the pharmacy and pick up some medicine, if you want.”_ Someone would tell him.

 

 _“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it.”_  He never did. Cold medicine wouldn’t do anything, anyways. He had already tried that.

 

__

 

He can vaguely recall his mother, in times like these. Her frail limbs and chattering teeth, rosebuds in between the small gaps of her teeth. Seungri vividly remembers her twig-like legs, barely holding her body weight. His father, who stood tall against the other side of the room, looking on, disgusted.

 

 _“So, you fell in love with another man? How noble of you!”_ His voice piercing her heart, she falls.

 

 _“You don’t love me, do you?”_ Nobody else hears it, thinks about it, remembers it—they fought so often many of the arguments slipped other’s minds, but Seungri remembers. He remembers how his father fell out of love with his mother, causing her death.

 

He doesn’t think he can ever forget.

 

The memory is so ingrained into his brain, that it’s the first thing that comes to his mind when the word “mother” pops up. Not her pale lips or head cocked oddly to the side on her hospital bed. It's the flowers. The flowers that were stuck in between her lips, bloodied and red, taunted him. Even the scent of the hospital, the disgusting, stale smell, just didn’t seem to compare to the flowers. They danced around her body, littered everywhere.

 

He remembers when she says she’s going to die. Seungri’s mother never straight out told him, but he remembers.

 

 _“Mom, please get the surgery… I can’t live with you gone.”_ She laughs, it sounds brittle and painful.

 

 _“You’ll understand one day, my boy. When you love someone, the emotions you now feel are so intense and beautiful that you don’t want to get rid of them.”_ She pats his head, _“Now, are you hungry? Your aunt brought me a lot of food that I can’t finish by myself.”_

 

Beautiful? How beautiful was love that it made you choke on flowers and ultimately, die? Seungri licks his lips; they’re dry and have a slight metallic taste. Beautiful wasn’t the word he’d use to describe it. Rather, a crushing pain and a slight feeling of drowning.

__

 

It starts off small, just tiny coughs and a sore throat. Until the day that a petal falls from his lips onto his hand. Dangerously beautiful.

  
__

 

Seungri can’t remember the first time that he realized he was in love with the man who sat right across from him during practice, with his beautiful looks and clothes.

 

So why is he getting Hanahaki now? After many years of torturing himself with the pain of not being able to confess, why is he getting it now?

 

After careful consideration, he cannot think of any options.

 

The man didn’t love him, it was obvious from the start.

 

__

 

He realized it the next day when his first (and last) love texts the group chat.

 

_We started dating!_

 

He reads the words over. Looks at the picture and ponders life again.

 

They’re other words that are written, but Seungri can’t be bothered to read them. He’s stuck on those three simple words that ruined his life like glue.

 

Three simple words: they can either break your life or make your life.

 

Then he realized why his body forced him to start choking on flowers. It was as if his body knew that the man didn’t love him the entire time. His body had held out until now though and his future never to be lover.

 

 _‘At least,’_ he thinks, _‘he will be happy.’_

 

__

 

At one point, right before a concert, Seungri sits, watching the happy couple from afar. Daesung comes over and sits next to him on the soft couch, laced with feathers.

 

Daesung looks at Seungri for a moment, before smiling lightly and taking his hand.

 

“I wonder what it feels like to love someone with all your heart to the point that you, yourself are in great pain.”

 

Seungri stares at the man, not expecting that to be the words to come out of his mouth.

 

“They’re all naïve and cannot see the pain you are going through just to let him live in happiness. Just to let him live with his lover.” Daesung continues.

 

Seungri nods, “his lover.” The words feel foreign on his lips; sticky like honey, yet bitter like an unripened tart.

 

“Love,” Seungri wants to laugh, “what a fickle emotion. Ripping you to shreds one day, showering you with affection the next.”

 

Daesung smiles, but it isn’t a true smile. Anyone could tell because he certainly wasn’t trying to hide it. “I can no longer recall the days when I felt such a unique emotion as love. The pain in your chest, the squeezing of your lungs… It is all a faded memory.”

 

They’re called to go up on stage. Seungri steals a glance at Daesung, who has a look of yearning on his face, staring at another man in the room.

 

Daesung then shakes his head, releasing a small sigh before smiling. “Let’s go, shall we?”

 

__

 

They perform well, as usual.

 

Seungri can’t help but look at how beautiful he is, even with sweat sticking to his forehead and tears running down his face.

 

He coughs, tearing his lingering gaze away from the man.

 

__

 

When Seungri was in school, he was an actor.

 

He took on the role of being mysterious and seemingly perfect.

 

Nobody had to know his mother died, or that he failed his last test. That his father ran away, and his sister went with him.

 

Nobody had to know he was alone.

 

He’d continue for the next couple years, acting. Until suddenly, he got sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of all the fake smiles and worthless words of praise from peers, teachers, other parents.

 

 _‘Other parents,’_ he’d think, _‘because my parents are gone.’_

 

The next morning he dropped out.

 

Everyone thought he had moved.

 

__

 

He became a trainee at a company. It was difficult but numbing. Numbing to the idea that his parents were gone.

 

He hated it at first, working out constantly and feeling like he’s dying afterward. It was hot in the practice room, you ended up drenched in sweat almost constantly.

 

Then he met them.

 

They weren’t friends at first, as Seungri was added last minute to the lineup—it took a lot of begging and pleading to the CEO—but he slowly began to appreciate them.

 

Soon they all became close… dare he say, friends?

 

It was interesting to say the least, the dynamic between all the members in the group.

 

__

 

Seungri wheezes hoarsely, knees shaking so much he thinks he might keel over. He wants to laugh and brush it off, telling someone, “oh it’s just a cough.” He wants to try and fool himself yet again by telling everyone he’s fine.

 

But confined in the space of his own house, who is there to fool? Besides himself—who he isn’t sure he can fool, he’s a tough man—there is no one.

 

 _‘It’s been getting worse.’_ he notes.

 

__

 

Seungri had always wanted to meet his sister. Even after he became famous, he had always wondered.

 

Now was the time, he was dying. (No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, it was true.)

 

He doesn’t remember much about her, since his life when he was younger seemed like a blur, mashed into a box and stowed away in the attic, never to be seen again. But, he wants to meet her.

 

It takes a while, even years after he became famous it was hard.

 

He manages it though, writing her address on a piece of paper, and tucking it into his jacket’s pocket. She lives far away though, so he tells his manager to make up an excuse about why he isn’t there and promptly leaves.

 

The drive is long and the road is dark. Dotted with the occasional star, the sky was mainly dark. His headlights were bright, but not bright enough, as the road ahead is inky black.

 

_‘Sort of like my future.’_

 

When he arrives, it is early in the morning. The roads are slowly becoming filled with cars and people. He mumbles the address to himself and he makes his way down the streets.

 

And then there it is.

 

His sister’s house.

 

It’s light purple and in a small neighborhood. A bed of flowers sits in her front yard, shingles of her roof falling off. It isn’t run down, but it also isn’t nice.

 

He knocks.

 

The door opens. “Hello?” A woman opens it, stepping out slightly.

 

“Are you Lee Hanna?” He asks, as soon as she opens the door.

 

“Yes, and why are you here?”  
  
“I’m Lee Seun-”

 

“I know who you are.”

 

“We’re siblings.”

 

She sighs. “I know.” She whispers as if it was a secret. “I know we’re siblings, however, we can’t be.”

 

The door shuts gently in his face. He coughs up another petal.

 

 _‘Time is slim,’_ he thinks.

__

 

After yet another concert he sees him. The man of his dreams. He is the only one who is ever in Seungri’s dreams anymore. The one who makes Seungri cough up flowers petals, on his knees suffocating slowly.

 

Once the concert is over, he falls to his knees, coughing endlessly.

 

“Seungri?!” Someone calls, but it feels muddy and distant. His vision fluctuates, he sees black, then he sees blurs of people.

 

Next thing he knows is that he’s lying down, on his back.

 

And somehow, in the midst of all this chaos and pain, he still manages to hide the few flower petals in his back pocket.

 

Even he himself wonders how he did it.

 

Then he sees it, his love hiding in another man’s shoulder. “I was so worried, Seungri!”

 

Seungri shudders, “I think I’ll be alright…”

 

He wants to cough, but he holds it back. Then he tries to stand up. He falters slightly, falling onto the man’s shoulder when he comes over to help him up.

 

The man laughs and it rings through the air like the harmonious sound of church bells. His eyes scrunch up and his milky white teeth show through the air. He looks at Seungri with a fondness in his eyes, but not the type of fondness wants. He wants the type of fondness couples have, but he only looks at Seungri with the fondness of a brother. “Seungri, I have a boyfriend, you can’t be trying to steal me.”

 

Right. He has a boyfriend.

 

Seungri then stands up, “yeah, sorry hyung.”

 

Daesung looks at him worried.

 

They all leave, except Daesung. His eyes look to be worried and in pain. Seungri doesn’t know if he cares anymore.

 

“Don’t miss me too much, hyung.”

__

 

He finally decides to meet his death.

 

It isn’t going to be dramatic nor rememberable, he decides he will simply be found lying in his bed one evening after numerous missed schedules and calls.

 

They won’t start to worry until he started missing schedules.

 

__

 

Seungri smiles painfully.

 

Just as predicted, they don’t begin to worry until he starts missing schedules.

 

Was that how lowly they thought of him?

 

That he be reduced to a mere co-worker whom nobody knows? As if he had gotten moved to a different department several years ago?

 

Does he laugh?

 

Does he cry?

 

Seungri doesn’t know. They’ve spent so many years together that Seungri can’t see the lines crystal clear like he used to before. Back in the days where they lived in one dorm together, someone could easily tell if another was overworked, sad, hungry.

 

That was years ago though.

 

Now all that is left are mushy and blurred lines. Was it because they became better actors or was it because they became less observant?

 

Seungri guesses it’s a mix of both.

 

He knows how to play cards, he’s learned. He knows every card in his deck, regardless of if he’s even looked at it. Seungri has spent so long perfecting the game of cards to the point that nobody can beat him.

 

Seungri will die soon. He knows this.

 

Soon as in minutes. He no longer has months or weeks left. His whole life has been reduced to a matter of mere minutes.

 

For a second he debates on writing a letter. He presumes someone might find some solace in the letter. Then he realizes that’s cliche; he might as well do something more meaningful.

 

Seungri laughs, he can feel the flower flowing through his veins at this point, ready to take over his body.

 

He walks to the kitchen. It feels like everything is going in slow motion. His feet burn; his lungs wheeze for the sweet relief of the flowers. The flowers want out.

 

Seungri knows he’s almost out of time.

 

He places a single flower on the table.

 

Seungri then walks back to his room, every step burns the soles of his feet, his knees want to collapse in on themselves. Life seems fickle at this point when you’re almost on your deathbed

 

He lies on his bed.

 

He smiles; he guesses he was still a good actor, even after all this time.

 

He coughs once, then twice, then a third time. The coughing becomes louder and he begins to hack up pieces of flower. Wheezing, he grasps the sides of his bedding.

 

The pain becomes unbearable for a second, his coughing insufferably loud before becoming white noise.

 

And just for a second, he lets himself wonder if Jiyong ever did love him.

 

__

 

 _The first time he had seen Jiyong, he hadn’t even known the boy’s name. All he knew was that the other boy was tall_ _—_ _although Seungri believed it was only because he was older than him, and for the fact that Seungri hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet._

 

 _His back was turned towards Seungri, sweat clinging to the back of his stained shirt. The room was a musty green, the smell of ripe teenage boys lingering in the air. The floor was wooden, cold, and struck with many marks_ _— presumably from the many dancing practices that are hosted in this room._

 

_“This is Seungri,” The CEO gestures towards Seungri. “He will be joining your group.”_

 

_The boy turns, his hair is brown, long, and a mess. He looks as if he had just worked out, sweat stains dot both the front and back of his shirt. The boy’s choice of clothing was nothing spectacular either, just a plain grey tee, and long black pants with white stripes down the side. His cheeks have a little fat on them, but the man looks sturdy and fit overall. His jawline is sharp, which is odd since his cheeks still have the tiniest bit of baby fat on them. The boy had beautiful eyes, ones which expressed so many emotions all at once. Oddly, he can’t take his eyes off him. Seungri’s enchanted by the man._

 

_He’s beautiful._

 

____

**Author's Note:**

> I know you all are like, "oh, someone else will comment!" But honestly nobody does (rip me) so please comment if you have the time, I promise I don't bite lol.(I know I'm desperate for comments.) (Also I know I didn't indent anything, that's because most readers to my knowledge are on mobile and when something is indented and you're reading it on mobile it just looks weird lol.)


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